


all the small things

by TheThirdTemptationOfParis



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Eyepocalypse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Care, let Jon sleep for gods sake, please let them rest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25149697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirdTemptationOfParis/pseuds/TheThirdTemptationOfParis
Summary: When in the apocalypse, you need to find times for the little things. Like brushing your hair, for example.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 9
Kudos: 90





	all the small things

When in the apocalypse, you need to find times for the little things. Like brushing your hair, for example. So when Martin told Jon that his hair was looking a bit rough, that maybe he should brush it, Jon’s first instinct was to laugh it off. 

“Martin,” he started, that somber tone floating into his voice, “you can’t trust—“

“Comfort, yes, I know, love. But the hairbrush I just happened to borrow from Daisy’s cabin hasn’t spontaneously turned into spiders.” He pulled it out of the massive backpack he’s been carrying to prove it, “Come here.”

Jon smiled, his heart warmed by Martin’s proposition, and willfully moved to sit in front of him. Martin was so gentle as he untangled the degrading rubber band from Jon’s premature salt and pepper hair. As he tried to separate it into smaller sections, he began to realize how much of a mess Jon’s hair was. His voice was soft when he asked, “Jon, when was the last time you brushed your hair?”

Jon scrunched his face up and thought. He couldn’t think of the last time he had, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was before the apocalypse even started. And then it hit him, “Since I um... listened to Gertrude’s tape with Eric Delano...”

Martin’s gasp was audible, “Jonathan Sims! With your level of personal grooming?” He wrapped his arms around Jon’s waist, tilting his head to look in his eyes. Jon, despite himself, laughed. Martin kissed his cheek lightly, smiling, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

So Martin set to work. He held Jon’s head still as he brushed out the ends of his hair, working his way up until he could split it into sections. Each section was worked through thoroughly, Jon focusing solely on the repetitive pull of the brush in his hair. It was the first time since he’d read that destructive statement that his mind had truly known peace. 

Once Martin was able to pull the brush through without resistance, he sat it aside, but didn’t repent in his ministrations. He ran his hands carefully through Jon’s hair, blunt fingernails trailing from his temples to the base of his skull. Over and over and over, until Jon fully relaxed back into Martin’s chest, head resting on his shoulder. 

Jon hummed in quiet satisfaction, and Martin was reminded of how much like a cat he was. He was sure that if the situation were different, and he was able, Jon would absolutely purr. He kissed the side of Martin’s jaw and whispered a small, “Thank you,” in his ear. 

“You’re welcome, Jon,” Martin whispered back as he continued to comb his fingers through a patch of gray at Jon’s temple, “I told you that I would take care of you.” He kissed Jon’s other temple and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. His breathing evened out in a matter of seconds. 

_We could rest here,_ Martin thinks, _just for a little while longer._


End file.
